Promise
by Ava Cabot
Summary: New Chapter Up: Hawkgirl questions the life she and Green Lantern lived many years later.
1. I: Promise

Miyumi  
  
Promise  
  
A Justice League fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Cartoon Network and the almighty creators of Justice League own the characters. I just like to borrow them, sometimes.  
  
~*~  
  
Everything changed with Luthor's murder.  
  
Murder is a simple thing, really. One goes in, kills the victim, and leaves the body behind. Superman, the Man of Steel, did just that. He killed Lex Luthor, and ended a crime era that had lasted for years.  
  
I think that's when he lost it.  
  
Clark Kent, the happy Boy Scout from Smallville was replaced by Lord Superman, head of the Justice Lords, provider of the new, undemocratic way of law. It was the way crime would be stopped. In this new world, the sufferers wouldn't suffer, and mourners wouldn't cry. The good were to be rewarded, and the bad would be lobotomized.  
  
That's how it started.  
  
The person he cared about the most, Lois Lane, was the first to notice the change in his demeanor. At first it was subtle-a few lobotimizations here, a couple more criminal deaths there. Nothing big. But then the amount of lobotomized criminals went sky-high, and the residents of Arkham Asylum doubly increased. As crime went down, we suspected that Superman's mind did too. He became cold, basically uncaring. He ignored the calls Lois sent to his apartment, which he eventually sold, making his permanent home at the Watchtower, where he could watch the Earth 24/7.  
  
Days, weeks, months, and eventually two years went by. The Earth was divided into sectors that were monitored constantly. Freedom and democracy did not exist. The promises of freedom that so many countries fought for were forsaken. Everyone began to live in fear. The world was changing, and I was one of those who hated it. Of course I kept my mouth shut-speaking out was not tolerated. One negative word, and my free will would be lobotomized out.  
  
And yet during the whole time, I still had her. The alien-no, woman I cared for more than anything. Hawkgirl. Shayera Hol-or just Shayera, to me.  
  
It took me a year to tell her how I felt. Whether she felt the same for that long was determined one night, in the moonlit glow of the newly constructed Watchtower. She wanted to show me something, so I came.  
  
The long, auburn hair that I loved to touch was there. For the first time, she let me feel it between me fingers. It was soft as silk and twice as beautiful. It fell between my hands like an exquisite piece of that precious material.  
  
When she removed her mask, letting me see her face for the first time, my heart almost stopped. Her mace lay on the bed beside us, and for the first time, she kissed me.  
  
She did really want to talk, also. She wanted to talk of the changes within the league. When she spoke, I knew everything had indeed changed, and saw it all through her eyes. Her tone was bitter, and her face was angry. She knew what we had begun to do, as the Justice Lords, was wrong. She told me how Thanagar was ruled with an iron fist. She thought the Earth was different, but found she was sorely disappointed.  
  
She reached under her bed, pulling out her old mask. She cradled it in her arms, silver tears falling down her face. She didn't want to forget who she once was. "Things are changing, John" she said softly. "Everything is changing."  
  
Her words were almost prophetic. Every member of the League changed. Superman became bitter, lobotomizing the smallest bit of violence. Batman became even more a recluse, staying in his cave, never coming out. Diana, Wonder Woman, was his only visitor. She had cut her hair short. She said it symbolized a break with old ties. I assumed that meant with her sisters and mother back on Themyscara, whom she did not contact ever again.  
  
J'onn was in charge of monitor relay, which was just a fancy word Superman coined, meaning that he made sure all the sectors had reported peacefully. It took J'onn longer to accept his new job.  
  
But eventually, he became as cold as the rest of them. He too forgot what the Justice League had been started for-defending truth and righteousness with a fair hand.  
  
Now, he only remembered the way of the Justice Lords.  
  
Shayera and I tried to save what little romance we had. We knew what Batman felt for Diana, but he dared not to admit it. Diana remained alone, and he was a recluse. We didn't want to share such a fate. We wanted to be together.  
  
She did share my dream, and for that I thanked every deity I could, many, many times. She promised to be with me. She promised we'd be together forever.  
  
She promised never to change.  
  
But she did.  
  
Just like everyone else.  
  
It was subtle at first. She threw away her old costume: the red boots, the green pants, and the yellow top. She couldn't throw her mask away, though. She kept that hidden under our bed, where it remained dusty and closed, unless she took it out, opening the box and pulling out her past.  
  
I confronted her one night, as we lay awake, insomniacs joined in one bed. I asked why she changed.  
  
Her reply was sad in tone. "Why can't you understand," she had pleaded, turning away from my steely gaze. "The world is changing, and if we want to stay with it, we must change too." Her hand caressed my cheek, trying to soften the edginess in her voice. "I'd never leave you behind," she added softly. "Please, Jon."  
  
Needless to say, it was a rough night for both of us.  
  
Her new costume was dark as night, the centered hawk emblem not quite covering her majestic shoulders. Shadows often danced across her sculptured body, so perfect, it almost made me blind just looking. Her mask covered her beautiful tresses, tucking it all beneath that heavy helmet of gold. She claimed that keeping it back was less of a nuisance. Along with her alternative attire, her mace became better than before, able to absorb more electricity now. It proved how willing she had become to kill.  
  
But her hair, when she let flow long across her shoulders, still smelled sweet, scented with roses, mountain air, and something more. That much hadn't changed. It was in that small, almost insignificant fact that I took comfort in.  
  
After the birth of the Justice Lords, peoples of the world fled when they saw us. They ran, frightened, if one of our shadows fell over them. They were afraid of us, and no longer rejoiced in our presence. It wasn't love in their eyes, not adoration, happiness, or pride. It was fear, fright, and outright terror.  
  
I missed the love that people had for us.  
  
But any pain I had, any regret for killing another scumbag or rebellious citizen, I forgot once I found her during the night. Years earlier, she had packed her sparse belongings and moved into my room without much warning. The other Justice Lords, we suspected, just turned a blind eye. They probably knew that we were sleeping together.  
  
But still.  
  
It was so pitiful the way we clung to each other. Whatever heart they had left was used for our condition-they felt sorry for us. We couldn't live without the other.  
  
It was often past midnight when my shift ended, and she faithfully waited up each night. She ignored all the dirt and grime that covered me, and just whispered tender endearments as we tried to cry ourselves to sleep. Her body rose off of mine with every breath I took, as she cradled her face across my scarred chest.  
  
Blinking her tear-strewn jade eyes at me, she softly said that she thanked the gods every night that I returned to her. That I wasn't dead, and that I still loved her.  
  
I suppose we didn't do anything that Superman-or Lord Superman would have condemned. Through the long, cold hours of the night we held each other, clinging and weeping for the tragedy that Earth had become. Her head lay on my chest, where battle scars remained as a tribute to the future, and her hand was clutched in mine; a comforting presence. Her wings enclosed us as I kissed her, long and hard until we couldn't breathe, gasping for breath like two people drowning within each other.  
  
The last time she had cried hard, was when Flash died. We both knew he would have hated what the Justice League had become. He would have called us dictators, unfit to protect the world we once treasured so. At his funeral, she sat close to me, sobbing until there were no more tears to cry. She often lost herself in thought, still expecting the little punk to swerve up and do something, like steal her mace, ruffle her wings the wrong way, or say something nice, as a random act of kindness. He was random like that, being an irritating kid one minute, and a sweet gentlemen the next. It all came in the package that was Flash.  
  
We mourned the loss so heavily, that eventually everyone forgot. That's what happens when you cry hard. You grieve for months, and then move on.  
  
When Batman showed us the footage of that alternate dimension, I could feel my heart split into two. Not only did I see Flash, alive and well, but I saw Shayera there, still the fiery and stubborn woman I fell in love with so many years ago. When this alternate Hawkgirl managed to crush her way out of our enclosure, I hesitated for just the slightest amount of time. She seemed so young, so full of life and innocence.  
  
So free.  
  
Firing upon her made me realize that I too, had changed. I watched her fall to the ground, where Lord J'onn phased to, holding her unmoving body close. Her breaths were unstable and short; I was sure she was going to die. I saw J'onn's eyes flicker with sadness just for a moment. He too understands the responsibility I felt for harming her. I knew J'onn would take her to Arkham. In this world, she was a criminal, guilty of failing to kill off the evil in her world. I only hoped that this Hawkgirl would live, escape our world, and someday fall in love with her Green Lantern.  
  
That night at the Tower, I lay alone on my side of the bed, staring at my hands. The hands that fired a flash of green light to the woman I loved. I tossed and turned with my guilt that night, sweat pouring down my face. The pained look on this Hawkgirl's face haunted me.  
  
Shayera tried to console my guilty body. She trailed soft butterfly kisses down my neck and across my shoulders, trying to stir me from my reverie. But every time I looked at Shayera I saw Her face. The face that was wrecked with pain, with shock, with agony. I saw Her in the Arkham medical room, hooked up to beeping monitors that would give out eventually. She was chained to her table, eyes closed and breathing erratically.  
  
When Shayera woke up the next morning, she found me standing by the window, dark circles under my eyes. I had fired upon the one person I would have died for. I wanted to just curl up and die. I didn't deserve to live-not after what I did.  
  
Neither of us could through the process of marriage, and that was fine. We'd probably done every unspeakable act that the God condemns for the unwed, but that didn't matter. In a world gone mad, all I needed was her.  
  
It was two years ago that she promised herself to me, two years ago that I said, I loved her. She promised that nothing would ever separate us, that nothing could make her forget the love she kindled for me.  
  
We made a promise to be together forever. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health we'd be together.  
  
It was a promise that we'd die to keep.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: I'll be honest-this fic was very hard to write. I started it out just as a short, 2-page thing to get the idea in my head into words. Then I slowly started adding more details, until it became this length. I hope you all enjoyed this piece, and I also hope that I could capture some of the inside angst from the JL episode A Better World. Read the between the dialogue of episodes-it creates fic ideas, lol. As always, please review! 


	2. II: In Thy Memory

Miyumi  
  
In Thy Memory  
  
A Justice League fic  
  
A/N: Hawkgirl questions the life she and Green Lantern lived many years later. Told in her POV.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and opening poem, which is actually a poem from Green Lantern to Hawkgirl. Cartoon Network, please give me Hawkgirl and Green Lantern. I only want them to be together forever, I swear.  
  
~*~  
  
Something about the way you walk,  
Makes me smile, makes me long.  
Something about the way you kiss,  
Just keeps me going on.  
I don't know why I fell in love with you,  
Maybe it's just because I'm a person just like you.  
It's something that draws me closer,  
Like a butterfly, to the flame.  
Eyes that draw me in,  
A tear that makes me cry.  
Your words make me a better man,  
I yearn for your applause.  
And when the sunlight, dawns on your face,  
It drives me crazy, looking in your jaded eyes.  
I can't escape it-I'm drawing near and near.  
But I don't ever want to leave,  
Because I'm happy here.  
It's what makes me smile.  
Something about you.  
Deep inside.  
  
~*~  
  
It was our sight that I feared would go first.  
  
The ability to see is a key part of Thanagarian life, especially as a detective. When you lose your sight, you lose the ability to be a useful part of Thanagarian culture. You lose the chance to be a better person.  
  
You can no longer see the people-or person, you love.  
  
Being away from Thanagar so long made me I weak, I fear. Decades after the Justice League retired, I found myself becoming tired easily, and not able to pull the work I could do so easily as a young detective.  
  
Youth. A word I never treasured until now.  
  
I think of my youth every day in this cursed state. As I pad around wrapped in sweaters and blankets, I remember flying almost naked, held back by nothing but my yellow top, green pants, and sturdy red boots. My reliable mace, now hung in a place of honor over our bed, does not remain dusty. I treasure that instrument of destruction. I remember what I was once was.  
  
It also reminds me of Thanagar, of home.  
  
Jon once joked that he'd remain a Green Lantern the rest of his life. He could never give up the responsibility it gave him, the power that he had to make the lives of people better. He was a hero, even when retired, living with me in an isolated cabin.  
  
Days seem to go by slowly now, as I spend them without anyone special. The fast-paced life I led as Hawkgirl isn't present anymore. Then I ran through day like there was no night, and each night like there was no tomorrow. After I retired with Jon, I treasured every day I had, knowing that sometime soon, it will be my last. That there would be no tomorrow for this fallen hero. I wanted to spend the rest of my days with the man I loved. I didn't want to die.  
  
But now, I pray for a swift, silent death.  
  
Staring out the window glazed over with frost, I think of Jon. It's not just the snow that reminds me of him-everything around me sparks some kind of memory we had. The snow reminds me of the fight we had, so many Christmases ago. Smiling, I can almost feel the impact the snowballs had on me. I'd never experienced anything like a snowball fight before. It never snowed on Thanagar. Even if it had, I doubt I could have run outside, playing like a child in the frozen precipitation.  
  
These memories are sweet to me, reminders of how lucky I was to fall in love with the right man. Jon was always so caring, so tender; it drove me crazy. Thanagarians are born hard and tough, and love isn't as prominent as it seems to be on Earth. Here, there is someone out there for everyone. Even for an irritating cop like me, an alien to this world.  
  
At first I wasn't sure how the world would react to all the work and events that the Justice League was a part of: the end of a crime era that terrified so many generations, the retirement of the League, a long- standing group to the side of good, and then the significant romances that took place not long after.  
  
Well, with the exception of Jon and I, that is. We were together long before the League withdrew. We never married, but were as close as any couple could be, and perhaps more.  
  
Superman married Lois, and even Flash found himself a wife. Batman would never admit that he was smitten with Diana, but she gladly accepted his invitation to move into Wayne Manor, just a month after the League was finished.  
  
They married a year later.  
  
Diana is a frequent visitor to me; the closest thing I've ever had to a "best friend", as humans call it. No one was a friend to me on Thanagar. Either I was too scary-as Flash puts it, or too stunning-Jon. Diana has aged as I have, but takes it in stride. Once, I bitterly antagonized over the possibility of death, but I had Diana or Jon to comfort me. Diana tells me that death is only another stage of life, and that there are many more adventures and experiences to be had.  
  
I just laughed, and waved her wisdom away. Then she cracked a smile, and held my hand in hers, her eyes shining with tears. She treasures every day she has Batman, her husband; with me, her dear friend; just with life in general. She keeps each day locked away in her memory, helping her to cope with age. With age comes wisdom-Diana is the very personification of that saying. She is optimistic about the future I gave up on.  
  
In some ways I miss the days long gone, when I could be reckless and somewhat stupid. Flying face-first into danger, staring Death in the face without even a care. I can't believe what a fool I was. I was duped into every mission that could have taken my life at any moment. I was an idiot to carelessly swing my mace at every criminal I every met.  
  
But then again, I was a fool in love.  
  
It was love at first sight with Jon. I'm almost positive of that. In all my years as a detective, I'd never encountered anyone like Jon before. Not that I hadn't met a Green Lantern, just not one as unique and insanely stubborn as he was. He could match my temper in a heartbeat, and make me melt in his arms within a second. I silently watched him for a year, waiting for the opportunity that never seemed to come, for me to admit that I had hopelessly fallen for him.  
  
We'd gone through so many missions together; I can't even keep track of the arguments we had during them. There was War World-I still blamed him for the bruise on my wing-Kalinor, where I was afraid he'd leave me for Katma. That memory isn't sweet, merely humorous. To think that I was once that innocent and fierce is amusing. Fighting with Vandal Savage and saving Jon from a watery death was a fonder memory. I loved Jon's smile-it made life slightly easier to trudge through.  
  
Age certainly has made me more mature, if anything.  
  
It was that battle against the Joker that I finally realized he felt the same way about me. The way he spoke, a low, resonant tenor that stirred something in my soul, made my heartbeat twice as fast. My legs were shaking when I sat on his bed, my head throbbing and my hands trembling, almost dropping my papers. The only sounds I could hear were the beeping of his monitors, the sound of my heart, and Jon's voice.  
  
"You know how I feel about you, and I know you feel the same way."  
  
Such simple words that took so many months to say finally were out. At that moment I wanted to cry, to shout, to faint into his arms, or punch him, for not saying this sooner. I swear my heart stopped when he kissed me, my face feeling strangely light and feathery with the removal of my mask.  
  
At first I wasn't sure that it would work for us. I'd never heard of inter- species romances lasting, no matter how hard the people tried. I wanted to make it work, but I just didn't know how everything would end. We both wanted to live happily ever after. My heart soared when he didn't care about our physical differences.  
  
"I see a man, and a woman."  
  
He saw me just as someone like him. Not an alien, a strange girl with wings and a mace, but a human woman, someone beautiful and worth drawing attention to.  
  
I knew was going insane with this love of mine. Either I was going to be with him for the rest of my life, or we'd drive each other crazy.  
  
I suppose we did a little bit of both. The world wasn't as shocked when the rumors about us finally leaked out. When we flew to jail some criminal, people saw my hand in his. In the dead hours of the morning, after we stopped a ridiculous robbery, we stood alone on a building, kissing slowly as the sun rose. Dark circles covered our eyes many mornings; we often talked-among other things-through the night, and got little sleep.  
  
Sleep is a curse, these days. I knew that eventually, one of us just wouldn't wake up in the morning. One of us will be alone, left to wander the world without someone to hold hands with, to kiss, to hold, just to damn talk to. I just didn't think it would happen so soon.  
  
Up in the mountains, the days seem shorter, the sun shining for less time, the air cleaner but colder. Now when I'm asleep, I still think of clinging to his body for warmth. But I move, I feel dead space and realize that Jon doesn't lie next to me anymore.  
  
As Flash says, I've become a bitter old woman. Old, yes, but not bitter. I try not to hate Jon for leaving me. Death is natural part of life, and I knew that he would die someday.  
  
I curse fate most days, asking whatever God will listen, why did they take Jon away from me. Why am I stuck on a planet I still barely know, forsaken by all civilization?  
  
Why am I all alone?  
  
I could ask Diana if Wayne Manor had a room for this old Thanagarian. I could ask J'onn if he wouldn't mind me back at the Watchtower. I could even ask Flash for some companionship, just so I wouldn't die of boredom.  
  
Yet, I won't.  
  
Instead, I choose to spend the rest of my days here, alone in this weather- beaten cabin. It's not like I'll starve or freeze to death. At the very least, I'll die of loneliness, lacking a companion to talk to for hours. Someone like Jon.  
  
A green light emits from my left hand, where Jon's ring sits proudly. I refused to bury it with him. The ring was one of the last things I had left of him, and I couldn't-no, wouldn't let go of it. Now, it rests on top of the diamond Jon gave me. He told me that a diamond, like our love, would last forever.  
  
Too bad his body couldn't.  
  
It's on days like this that I ask myself all these questions, including the one that plagues me the most.  
  
I could have gone home to Thanagar, if I wanted.  
  
Sadly, it's true. The entire League, maybe with the exception of the rather vacuous Flash, knew that I could have taken the Javelin back to Thanagar. Though far away from Earth, the ship could have lasted the entire trip.  
  
Or, Jon could have flown me out there. With a fully charged power ring, he probably could have made it to Thanagar and back to Earth easily. It was never a matter of how I would get home. Truly, it was whether Jon would let me leave him or not.  
  
Now, the clock in our bedroom chimes seven times. It's nearly dark outside, and I still have one more thing to do, before I go to sleep. I know it's time.  
  
Rising from chair is becoming harder every day. Chuckling to myself, I wonder if one day, I'll just die in a chair I couldn't get out of. That would be something to laugh at. Maybe even brighten my mood, for once.  
  
Sitting on the table is a single red rose, the kind of flower Jon brought for me so often. I hold it close to my face, just taking in the fresh, lovely scent of the blossom. No thorns prick me as I take it in my hand, wrapping a shawl around me as I walk outside slowly.  
  
Bathed in the moonlight is a single stone, strong and broad, stretching out in the snow-covered path. No wind whips my face as I kneel in the frigid, wet snow, wincing slightly as the cold seeps through my skin. But I put on a brave face, as Jon would have wanted me to.  
  
Placing the rose at the bottom of the grave, I take a moment to utter a silent prayer. Once a year I make this pledge, someday hoping I'll be up in the clouds with Jon again. I raise my eyes to the sky, searching for some star to wink at me, reminding me of the constant mischievous twinkle in his eye. It was as if he had some kind of secret, keeping it close like a little boy.  
  
But until then, I can wait. I'll be patient, because Jon will come for me when it's my time. My time to go sleep and never wake up, as he did three years ago. It's been hard living my life without him, but I remember that we will be together again. The memories we had keep me going.  
  
I walk back into the house, shedding my outer coat and shawl, and placing it neatly in the closet. I stare in the mirror beside the closet, taking in my elderly appearance. My hair, once a fiery auburn, is now streaked with silver. More silver than auburn, really. My face, once smooth and pale, is lined. My hands are weathered and red, while my body remains fragile, unable to take the hits I could as a detective, and a member of the League.  
  
But I shake my head. I don't care how old I look anymore. Up until the day he fell asleep and died, Jon always told me I was beautiful. That's all it took to make me feel young and pretty once again.  
  
I pull out a small box from underneath the bed, and sit, opening the dusty container and reaching inside. A photograph, taken years ago when we were young, smiles back at me. Jon stands proudly behind me, an arm set around my tiny waist, holding me as if he'll never let go. The other hand rests across my flushed cheek, as our eyes sparkle a mysterious green.  
  
A grin is set on both our faces. These were happy times, and I should treasure what I had with him.  
  
I curl up under a blanket that smells like Jon, turn off the light and close my eyes, a small smile flitting across my face.  
  
Tomorrow, perhaps, I won't wake up.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N 2: this was hard to write too. I'd never want Jon to die, ever, and if he had to, it would be in the most romantic way possibly, with Shayera. He wouldn't leave her alone for so long. *sniff* please review! 


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